So this one day, I’m out hanging in the field where the fighters train, checking out this particularly handsome thing as he swung his hammer. My friend Velma and me, we’re trying to impress him by seeing who can cast a more sparkly version of Lance of Faith on the dummy he’s hitting. I have to say, my first one, awful. Sad. Pitiful, even. Oh, it was bad. It didn’t even deserve to be described as sparkly. Velma’s first one was about the same, which made me feel better, because honestly, we both started this whole cleric thing at the same time.
Still, I was pretty bummed. I sat down, picked up a rock, and turned it in my hands. I have a destiny, why can’t I make some sparkles work? Grr! Then I realized I needed to meditate, or as I like to call it, finding my Happy Place. I closed my eyes and began to hum a little tune that always makes me think about how much Moradin loves me and I felt instantly better. I stood up, walked towards Handsome and the Dummy and threw down this column of light that burst into sparkles like a thousand gemstones. Ha! Handsome grinned at me and winked. I think he likes me, but oh well, at this point, that doesn’t matter now, does it?
Hang on, hang on. Ahead of myself. Backing up!
So I throw down this totally awesome sparkly beyond belief Lance of Faith, best one I’ve EVER done, and Velma is clapping and Handsome is winking and then I feel a hand on my shoulder. I turn around to see an old trader. Pretty sure I’ve seen him at the market. Either way, he’s all like, “That was a pretty impressive looking bit of magic, lass. Certainly Moradin favors you.” And as much as I want to be like, “Well, duh, of course he favors me! I have a destiny!” I play the Good Girl Modesty Card and just smile.
“Come with me,” he says. We walk off, leaving Velma to impress Handsome. She’s shooting sad excuses for sparkles. I wish I could help her, but I guess she just doesn’t have a destiny. I have a bounce in my step and hum a little tune as we walk through town. We arrive at the old trader’s house and he invites me in, pours us each an ale, downs his is one gulp, pours another, and begins to speak.
Froth is stuck to his mustache. It’s really annoying me. I want to reach out and wipe it off for him. Oh, and there are beads of ale trickling down his beard. Big, giant beads of ale. Can he not feel that? I wish my training had taught me some sort of Prayer of Beard Drying. Ew. Anyway, he mentions something about needing an escort to Cillamar. I know this is where the traders usually go, but I have no idea where it is or how far away, other than it’s further from home than I’ve ever been, ever.
So oh my gosh, let me just skip the boring parts, ok? We set off for Cillamar and it turns out this old dwarf had a bit more in mind as far as my job description went. Something about how he always had a thing for young, round things. Disgusting. I mean, he could just get a sheep. I may be a curvy girl, but I got STANDARDS. Ew.
Either way, I’m alone in this new town, but dwarves know people everywhere, so sure enough, after some bouncing around town and shopping – because seriously, how can I be in a new place without shopping? – I find this gnome who knew my parents. Hadn’t seen me since I was knee high to a riding dog, he said. We hung out, drank some ale, I told him about my destiny and he told me some stories about my dad that I really didn’t need to hear. Really. I’m serious. If my mother ever knew…
Anyway. So he’s like “Show me your stuff. You got this…” (Insert hiccup here.) “…this destiny. Show me some magic.” I’m more than a little tipsy, but hey, whatever. I know you’re not supposed to Drink and Divine, but I have a destiny, I can do whatever I want, right? We walk out in the backyard and he pulls a wand out of his pocket and puts up this pretty sweet illusion of a skeleton, oh, except it’s missing a legbone. Must be the booze.
I put on my best sober face. Sober face, sober face. Took a minute. I had to hum my Sober Face Song. You may laugh, but that song really seriously magically postpones the time I pass out in drunken stupor from “on the way home” to “safe in my bed.” It’s a great song. I’ll sing it for you sometime.
I close my eyes, hope that the Sober Face Song works for casting spells. Incoming SPARKLES!! – I mean, Lance of Faith. Ka-boom! Giant column of sparkles crashing on the one-legged skeleton. Woohoo! I do a little dance, the Sober Face Song wears off, and I fall on my rump. Hahahaha!
The gnome reaches to help me up. He’s impressed and says that he has a place for a cleric with talents such as mine. Talents! I have a destiny AND talents! Go me. Anyway, he’s part of some mercenary group called The Pack of the White Wolves. I’d just like to say, that’s pretty snazzy sounding. The Pack of the White Wolves. Rawr! They’ve been waiting for a cleric to assemble some sort of group – they already have the other members chosen. Hand-picked, he said. Hand-picked!! I’ve never been hand-picked for anything before… well, unless you count Moradin hand-picking me. Yeah, oops. That too! So TWICE! Twice I’ve been hand-picked.
So The Pack of the White Wolves, they’ve booked me a nice room at the Slumbering Drake Inn and given me a pretty sweet shield, which is good because when studying myself in the mirror after my shopping trip, it was definitely the accessory that I was missing! Tomorrow I’m supposed to meet up with my new companions… I’m so excited! I love new people!